Blame it on the Morning Sickness
by Thursday the 12th
Summary: Ginny is momentarily distracted from her perfect life, and finds solace in an unexpected place - but an affair with Draco Malfoy always has unintended consequences. Lady Greengrass and Astoria Malfoy are plotting and Harry Potter is getting closer to finding something - something that should have been left alone. And then there's Albert and the Single Dads' Club.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**We all hate/love those unrealistic 'ships, right? Juicy bits coming later. **

It wasn't Harry; that much was true.

Ginevra Potter stroked her rounding stomach and faked a smile, though there was nobody to watch her. No, it wasn't Harry at all, it was everything but Harry. In fact, it was nothing, nothing, not Harry, not everything, nothing but her mind playing tricks on her. Perhaps a little pregnancy sickness.

She thought, _It would have been loads better if I hadn't liked him as much._ Harry, of course. It would have been loads better if she hadn't liked him from the very moment she first saw him back in Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters when she was running to catch up with Mummy and Ron, a small freckled girl who didn't even know that the dark-haired boy with taped-up glasses and beautiful eyes was the famous Harry Potter. She'd liked him then, and later, when he'd saved her from the Basilisk and Tom Riddle (she still thought about Tom Riddle some times, the other handsome dark-haired boy who wasn't really a boy at all but He-Who-… Voldemort, one could say his name now, couldn't you. He was dead, really dead now.) She'd liked him when she went to the Yule Ball with Neville and she liked him when she dated Dean Thomas and she had been awfully lonesome and scared for him when he left Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione and nobody had bothered to send back a single letter to let her know if they were alive all that time. Yes, she had liked him and then loved him and she still did now. But maybe it would have been better if it hadn't been such a long, nearly uninterrupted moment of longing and liking and loving. Perhaps it would have been better if there had been some annoyance or even a little hate thrown in the mix. After all, Lily hadn't always liked James Potter.

Lily.

She was the problem. No, she wasn't the problem at all, she was dead and wonderful and perfect, bloody hell perfect. She was beautiful and caring and deep and her love had saved Harry Potter, her love had created and allowed the very existence of Ginny's love.

_Nobody expects me to be Lily Evans Potter, _Ginny repeated to herself. _Nobody expects me to be Lily Evans Potter._ But they did. She could see it in their eyes when she and Harry went to those formal dinners, especially with the older crowd. The old Order, Harry's new Auror friends, even her former teachers, they all saw the red-haired girl standing next to the splitting image of James and for the briefest of split-seconds it was as if He-Who-Must – _oh, please, Voldemort. Everyone expects you to be able to say Voldemort now_ – had never pointed his wand at the couple, as if Peter Pettigrew had never given up their secret, as if Sirius Black had never made the decision to give up his position as secret-keeper. Of course, Harry was more famous than his father, and after that briefest of moments everyone would gather around the boy-who-lived, a boy no longer.

Lily. Brilliant student, caring mother, kept her figure after Harry's birth… Ginny couldn't help but take a critical glance at her figure in the mirror. Still shapely, right? A pleasant baby bulge in the middle, a little rounder in the arms, neck still tight, plain brown eyes still pretty if not exactly striking. She couldn't help but feel slightly paranoid, and with that, a sort of guilt for the paranoia. Mum had absolutely ballooned after Charlie was born. _Ow. _Ginny felt something akin to a slap across her backside whenever she thought derogatorily of her mother. Well, Dad still loved Mum seven kids later, right?

Panic rose in her esophagus despite well-meaning self-assurances. _What if I get terribly fat and can't play Quidditch anymore and Harry remembers he's still in love with Cho Chang and I'm not a good mother and everybody hates me or worse, passes me by as a useless little sister and oh, what if everything is perfectly fine after all and everything continues as it is but I'll never be as good as Lily Evans and everybody knows but they won't say it to my face – _Ginny took a deep breath of air. _Pull yourself together, girl._

Now, all this internal struggle and unnecessary emotion may seem unimportant, a figment of the hormonal imbalances brought on by pregnancy. But it is important to know the _type_ of internal struggles that Ginevra Potter nee Weasley was going through in order to understand what she did next, and, more importantly, _why._


	2. Chapter 2: A Chance Meeting

A gust of wind blew the door shut with a bang, catching the end of Ginny's maternity skirt. She tried to yank it free but the thing wouldn't budge. _Bloody protection spells._ Of course, the door was supposed to keep outside things out and inside things in. Ginny snarled and searched for the muggle key in her muggle purse. _Not like Alohamora would have worked anyway. _She retrieved the end of her skirt and took one last look at the broomsticks leaning against the wall. Right. No broomsticks, no apparating, no floo powder unless absolutely necessary, no magic, really, until the baby was born.

Unlike Harry, Ginny had never had to live without magic. Underage wizardry laws had never been a problem at the Burrow; Dad had gotten the place muggle-secure and officially registered in the Ministry years ago as an exception, like Hogwarts or Platform 9 and ¾. She remembered crouching under the dinner table, trying out one of the many 'spells' Fred and George had told Ron. _Oh Fred. _Ginny shook herself. This was no time to start bawling like a baby. She picked herself up and started walking.

Draco Malfoy was ordering a coffee. "Venti, no sugar, two creams." He even smiled just the slightest bit as he took the cardboard number from the waitress. Blending in was something that Draco did extremely well now. He could smile and give a firm handshake and listen, he could bloodly well sit quietly and hear everyone wax loquacious about people he could pretend to like and respect. He could even pretend to be grateful – which he was – for the fall of the Dark Lord and his parents' relative safety, forget for a moment the rude words magically grafittied onto his door (a relatively weak sticking charm had been used, it took barely five minutes to remove but it was the thought that counted, and the fact that someone had managed to put there in the first place despite his _constant vigilance_).

Traitors. Muggle Haters. _Since when was 'Muggle Haters' worse than 'Mudbloods'? _Draco sat down in the least-drafty corner of the muggle shop and pulled out a muggle newspaper, flipping to the comics. He could feel his wand pressing against his back and the mild discomfort was reassuring. One could never be too careful.

Ginny was already munching on a corner of her enormous chocolate muffin, balancing a cup of tea and her muggle money in one hand, her purse and muffin in a the other, halfway to her favorite spot when she noticed a familiar white-blond head on the other side of the coffeeshop. _Is that… Should I… Why not? _ Ginny hobbled over to Draco, keeping precarious control over her belongings until they fell, unceremoniously all over Malfoy's table. "Hi Draco, Funny to see you here," she said brightly, remembering the time when she had hit him in the face with a particularly nice bat-bogey jinx. Malfoy lowered his newspaper, revealing a smile-grimace that could only mean that he was remembering the bat-bogey incident as well.

"…Funny to see you too." Malfoy replied.

A long silence ensued.

"Well… I do live here." Ginny said.

"Really?"

"Yup."

"Huh. Interesting."

"So, erm, what brings you to Godric's Hollow?"

"There's muffin on your face. Right there."

"Eh? Oh." Ginny scraped the muffin off her face. "Unless you came here for face-muffin –" Ginny paused and tried not to throw up a little in her mouth. "Anyway, why are you here?"

Draco readjusted himself in the comfy booth-side of the table. "If you have to know, I'm escaping the dreary life of a married man."

"You're married?"

"Oh, don't say it like you're so surprised. One can't be a player forever."

"I was thinking more along the lines of: dear god, somebody had to get close enough to snog your slimy face."

Malfoy sighed. "Good to know we're in the same place, Weasley. Of course, you're married to Potter now, aren't you." There was an unspoken _God that must be horrible._

Ginny nodded at the audible remarks as she polished off the remainder of her muffin. Another long silence ensued. "So, er," Ginny guessed, "Why are you hiding from your wife?"

"Oh that." Draco looked up from his comics. "She's just gotten all emotional and clingy lately. Sort of expected I guess since she's pr- " Draco took in Ginny's massive muffin consumption, the awkward rounding of her middle bits. "Erm. Pregnant."


	3. Chapter 3: A Chance Meeting Pt2

Ginny laughed. She set down her muffin and when the sound had escaped through her chest and into the air she found herself sitting down, enjoying a moment with _Draco Malfoy_, of all people. If it was any consolation, he looked as confused as she felt. This was brand new territory - one might say forbidden, though not with words. As anyone knew, anything named _forbidden _instantly gains a sort of desirability. Ginny felt as if she were floating, flirting with an open door of possibilities. Then at once, they were back on solid ground.

"I suppose a congratulations are in order." Draco sipped his coffee, hiding what Ginny supposed was a small smirk.

"Well yes, I do say they are," Ginny huffed. Draco raised an eyebrow slowly, and Ginny could almost see the eleven-year-old boy she'd hated almost as long as she'd loved Harry Potter. "I'd blame my irritability on the pregnancy, but you're the more obvious target." She muttered half-formed jinxes into her muffin and resisted the urge to do something childish. She'd been working on her wandless magic, before; it wouldn't break the healers' rules that much, just bend them a little…

Draco smiled thinly. "Take a number. Things have changed, and the names of certain Noble Houses are not what they used to be."

There should have been a victory there, something to cheer about, now that the Malfoys were, if not poor, _less rich _and_ less powerful_ but there really wasn't, just a sense of sadness, almost disappointment, as if it was _less ok_ to hate them now. It was almost a sense of _pity_.

Draco wasn't really talking to her as he sipped his coffee and justified his life. "Of course, House Malfoy will always get back up where we ought to be, we always do. There's just so much work – if the world is changing, and it is… People will always respect power, no matter what the system, and we'll adapt – I'll adapt. I don't want my son to-"

"To what – be a snooty little twerp like yourself?"

"To feel like the name of a famous House is the only connection he'll ever have to his father." Draco stared into Ginevra Potter's plain brown eyes. He'd have to remember this honesty thing. It seemed to work fairly well on the weak-minded. "Don't bother apologizing, that's not even close to the worst thing that's been said to me this week."

Ginny Potter nee Weasley was offering him a piece of her muffin. Draco didn't know whether to laugh or cry or be incredibly insulted that it had come to this, that he was this close to accepting a _Weasley_'s pity.

"Let it be known that I am only taking this as a favor to your figure." But he smiled as he said it, a real smile this time.

Ginny giggled again. It was less annoying, second time around. "Oh please. I suppose Pansy's thin as a stick still."

"What?"

"Parkinson. Brown hair, laughs at Muggle jokes..?" Ginny's attempt at an eyebrow raise just made her look constipated.

"Oh Merlin. You think I married Pansy. This is it, the death toll of my social influence." Draco felt like disapparating, but it seemed like he already had. It was true, nobody cared. He better relish those muggle-loving vigilantes while he could, revel in his remaining relevance.

Ginny felt like an idiot. Now it was painfully obvious she hadn't been out of the house in months. She'd just wanted some time to herself, time to figure out who she was before becoming what everyone else wanted her to be, to see if there was even the slightest chance she could try to like Lily Potter like everyone wanted her to be. And now she didn't even know whom Draco Malfoy had married. That was just plain stupid. It was like being the manager of the Chudley Cannons and _not caring to find out_ who had signed to Puddlemere United. "Well then, who-?"

"Astoria Greengrass!"

"Oh." The name sounded familiar… "Oh! Daphne's sister."

Draco nodded furiously.

Ginny smiled, "Of course you wouldn't have married Pansy, Parkinson's not a Noble House, is it. But Daphne's mum has loads of land in Wales, and – why are you looking at me like that?"

"I married Astoria because she's a good person. I wouldn't touch Pansy with a broomstick because she's horrible, has no ideas of her own. She wasn't even a very good sycophant." He could see her trying not to narrow her eyes at him. "Really."

"Ok, it's settled then."

"What's settled?"

"I'm officially inviting you to the party I'm throwing next week. It'll be the old crowd mostly, DA and all of that, and some of Harry's new ministry friends, so I don't mind if you say no, I'm almost hoping you're going to say no anyways… It'll be… fun, maybe."

"Very well, Ginevra Potter, I accept your invitation." Maybe it would be fun. Maybe it would be like old times, and it would be no fun at all. Draco couldn't tell if she was messing with him. He'd never trusted Ginny Weasley, and this chubbier, married-to-his-ex-arch-nemesis version wasn't any better.

Ginny nodded sagaciously. "Expect an official owl. Don't worry, it should be just like old times." She shoved her things into her muggle purse. "Got to be going now, it was nice seeing you."

Draco smiled and waved goodbye. "Nice, indeed." He was sure now, that she was messing with him. He just needed to figure out what her next move would be. _Just like old times._ Maybe this party would be fun after all.


	4. Chapter 4: Just like Old Times

_I can't believe he couldn't make his own party._

_Well, you know Harry, he's just so busy; I know it must be something really important. _

_That's no excuse, he shouldn't leave you alone in your condition. _

_Oh, don't worry, I'm fine. It's not bad at all. Besides, I'm so proud of him and the work he's doing to repair our country. I don't expect Harry to have a normal life, even after, you know? _

That was how Ginny expected the evening to go. As she brushed back her hair, she rehearsed her replies. As she smoothed her skirt over her just-bulging belly she practiced her best _I'm-doing-fine_ smile, and as she opened the door for the first guest, she hoped they wouldn't be _too _hard on Harry. After all, he had _good_ _excuses _for not being a top-notch husband – just look at the family he grew up with. But as soon as Wilda Griffiths set her back on her feet and opened her mouth, Ginny realized that all her preparations had been in vain. She had not prepared for _this. _

"Ginny! You look marvelous. Don't worry, I don't mind about Harry being gone, I'm sure he's off saving the world again. You're doing quite well with the pregnancy, it's too bad you're not coming back, we need you, darling."

"What?"

"Oh, don't worry, I know. A'course you're going to want to stay home and watch the young'uns, it's to be expected. Too bad, but what can you do? We're going to miss you, that's for sure. Already are."

Ginny hadn't realized that her Quidditch career was over, nor that everybody would be oh so understanding about Harry. As the evening wore on, she found her lines repeatedly stolen by others, leaving her with nothing but smiles and nods and "Of course, I get it, of course, I understand." She had wanted to defend Harry, but it seemed that everyone was doing it for her.

Draco Malfoy swept into the party like a hawk amongst doves, torn between the desire to remain inconspicuous and the need to feel important. He smiled at Hannah Abbott – no, it was Longbottom now – and tried not to justify his presence. Hannah tried to be friendly. "Hi Draco." There was an unsaid _why are you here?_

Something inside Draco Malfoy splintered at the edges but did not break. "Hello Hannah. How's Neville? I heard he's applied to be the new Herbology professor now that Sprout's thinking about retirement. Couldn't think of anyone who deserves it more."

Hannah may have _meep_'ed a little before Ginny swooped in. "Hannah! How are you!" She engulfed Hannah in a hug. Then, too casually, he could see her _trying_, "Draco, it's good to see you made it. Is Astoria around here somewhere? I haven't seen her in ages."

"No, she wasn't feeling well. Pregnancy does not suit her as well as it suits you, I think."

"You are too kind." Ginny said. Hannah made a distinct _meep_ing noise as Ginny took Draco's arm. "You've never been here before. Let me show you the gardens. They're best in a couple of months but the azaleas are just starting to bloom."

Draco sat down solemnly on the wooden seat and looked over the garden. Ginny plunked down next to him. "Well, this is…."

"Dreadful, I know." Ginny finished his thought. "Bloody dreadful. You'd think that in two years we'd have done something, anything at all. But Harry's never home and I've never really been the home-making type. So we've decided to call it natural and leave it at that."

There was something about Ginny - he could see it now that they were pretending to be friends, an honesty that wouldn't have lasted long in Slytherin. And she was taking her pregnancy well, he hadn't lied about that. Astoria was petulant when she wasn't heaving, angry when she wasn't trying to plan out their son's life before it even started. There still were moments, but those moments were brief, diamonds in a mountain of dirt.

Ginny was standing up. "Oh look, there's Ron and Hermione. I'll be right back." She didn't get a chance to leave.

"What is he doing here." The first words out of Ronald Weasley's mouth were unashamedly loud.

"Hi Ron, hey Hermione. How's London?" Ginny ignored her brother, kissing Hermione on the cheek.

"Ginny. What is that slimy son of a Death Eater doing in your house." Ron narrowed his eyes as Hermione whispered something sharp into his ear.

Draco tried his hardest to maintain composure. "Just like old times, isn't it," he said.

Ginny was trying her hardest to glare in two directions at once. "Oh please, let's not get into this. Let's be civil." It wasn't enough.

"You know he would have killed you-"

"He wouldn't have! He could have killed Dumbledore but he didn't, he only joined the Death Eaters because he had to protect his family! Now stop being so mean, Ron!" Ginny had finally found someone to defend, but it was the _wrong person_ and she looked like she was about to cry.

Draco remembered why the Malfoys looked down on families like the Weasleys. Some people just didn't understand how to behave in public. "Ginevra, thank you for having me, but I know when I'm not wanted. Your home is lovely." Draco gave a short, elegant bow, and took the high road with him.

"Ron, I see Angela and Fred over by the punch. Why don't you go talk to them," Hermione said firmly, and pushed her husband back into the house.

Hermione took Draco's vacated seat and put her arm around Ginny. She sighed, and smiled at the forest of vines and tall grass in front of her. "I've got to bring Crookshanks here some time. He'd love it."

Ginny sniffed. "Course he would." They sat together in silence for a time, feeling each other's warmth.

"You love my brother, right? You still love Ron?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Hermione laughed. "Of course I do. Why else would I put up with him?"

"Well…" Ginny looked down at her feet, at her still-slender ankles. "I don't know. I mean, you know that Harry would have married you if you wanted him. I know that. You're… you're his equal, Hermione, and I'm just –"

"Ginny! Don't you ever think that. Sure, we're friends, we're really good friends, but Harry loves you. He loves _you._"

"Then why isn't he here? Why isn't he _ever_ here? I thought we'd – I thought that now that… Voldemort is gone, maybe we'd have a normal life. I thought that was what he wanted. I thought we'd be happy. But he's never here, always on missions that he can't tell me about, or down at the Ministry, or –"

"Oh honey, that's normal for Harry. He's never had a normal life; he doesn't know what that is. He's a hero, he needs to be out there, fighting evil, saving the world. That's part of why you fell in love with him. I know it's hard, it's… it's really hard to let someone go out there for you, when you know you can't be there with him. But he loves you, you know that."

"Yeah, I guess I do." Ginny wiped a single tear with her sleeve.

Hermione smiled. "Why don't you clean yourself up, give yourself as long as you want. I need to make sure Ron-ron doesn't get into any trouble." The older girl stood up and patted Ginny on the shoulder. "You're going to be ok. Don't worry."

Ginny lay her head in her palms. Harry was _gone_, Ron was angry, Draco was probably _plotting something_ and Hermione couldn't quite assuage her fears. _Just like old times_,indeed.


	5. Chapter 5: To Whom it may Concern

**Dear Readers**

**To Whom It May Concern: **

**I know you're concerned. This is a D/G fic! Where's all the fluff? WHEN DO GINNY AND DRACO GET IT ON?**

**These are all valid concerns. But do you really want Ginny and Draco to get it on while Ginny's still preggers? What kind of sick people are you? Well, I'll let you know that the juicy bits might be coming sooner than you think, because we're about to race through this whole pregnancy thing. **

**And to those of you who are super-fans and know all about the next generation and feel like I'm messing with time… just keep reading the next couple of chapters, ok? Everything will be illuminated. Or thrown into darkness, if that's your kind of thing. **

**I also apologize for any factual/grammatical mistakes. I'm not proofreading this, although I do have a two-page outline of where I want the first half of the story to go. I'm thinking I can finish it in about fifteen chapters. (Of course, Robert Jordan said he could finish the Wheel of Time series in four books and we all (or, just I) know what happened with that fourteen books later.) **

**Thursday the Twelfth, out. **

**P.S. Do you think I should come up with a more enticing title? **

_Dear Draco,_

_Hi, this is Ginny, I was thinking_

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_I am writing this letter to inform you that on September 15, James Sirius Potter was born to Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Potter nee Weasley. He is six pounds seven ounces, and has lungs like the wrong end of a blast-ended skrewt. _

_Mr. Malfoy, to be honest, I don't know why I feel like writing to you but I do. In fact, I would like to see you, to hear the sarcasm leaking from your lips rather than imagine it in my head. Of course, in my head I can always come up with the best things to reply. The truth is, I am so very sorry about what happened when you were last in Godric's Hollow. It's just Ron, you know. He's never been the best at tact. You shouldn't have left like that. You shouldn't have felt like you had to. _

_I haven't heard from you in so long. How is Astoria? I suppose she must be near her term as well. I hope she is doing well. It is such a joy to hold your son in your arms, but it is most tiring. I'm not sure how I will do it when Harry leaves again. _

_I know you don't want to hear about Harry, or if you do, it is most likely for the wrong reasons, but I don't have anyone else to talk to right now. I might not send this letter at all if the ranting gets too dreadful. The thing is, the Department of Mysteries finally let him in. He thinks the department is holding out on the names of former Death Eaters – they do know so much about everything, and there was that one time – when Sirius died, of course you don't really know about that, you weren't there. Not to throw it in your face of course. You can't help what side you grew up on, just what side you're choosing now. You are choosing the good side, aren't you? Well, just in case, I shan't send this letter after all._

_Draco, you don't know how awfully hard it is when Harry's gone off on one of those Auror Things. My mum would come over, but I do hate her worrying me about everything so much, and Hermione's always busy because she has a career. I used to have one of those. I played Quidditch professionally - I was quite good. But the Harpies got a new chaser already and nobody expects me to return. It's quite sad, when nobody expects you to do anything with your life except sit at home and be a mother. _

_I do like being a mother though. James is a handful, but he's sweet. I love him so dreadfully, awfully much, and it's so hard to say things like this. Well, nobody's going to see this. The truth is, love is not enough for me. There. I'd like something exciting to happen. Maybe that's why Harry's always gone. It must be hard for him to find something exciting after all that's happened. _

_I understand. Most of the time I understand, but sometimes_

Ginny stared at the letter she had written. She tore off the blank end of the page. She tossed the letter in the fire and scribbled on the remaining scrap: _D- Meet me at the Muggle Coffeeshop next Saturday if you still think we can be friends. Sincerely, G- _


	6. Chapter 6: Moments

That morning, Ginevra Potter spent an undetermined amount of time getting ready for the day. She was nervous, and nervousness made her sloppy, and she had barely enough brainpower left after taking care of the house and James Sirius and calling the – it seemed like thousands – of friends, family and neighbors who had at some point dropped by or left a beautifully written note or a batch of homemade muffins by the door in honor of her son's existence. It had been not-quite six months and she was still buried under a mountain of borrowed gratitude. And then there was that thing at the coffee shop.

Ginevra Potter did not stand people up. She knew what it felt like to be constantly forgotten, left behind. So – and this is the official reason why she went, it was a matter of honor, of responsibility to her ideals of self – she called her mother, dropped off her infant son, and took a raincheck from her life to meet Draco Malfoy.

When she looked back on that moment, there were many things she could not remember. Whether she walked or took a muggle cab, whether she nibbled a croissant or English muffin while waiting in her favorite seat with the view of the front door. Whether she wore clogs or heeled boots, whether or not she had said, "I love you" to James Sirius before leaving him with her mother. And then there were some things she could picture down to the very last detail in her mind, see them play out like photographs in the Daily Prophet while she listened to Harry talk about his job, feel their invisible hands while she stirred the dinner stew, hear their lascivious whispers oh-so-close to her earlobes as she dressed in her dreary woolen winter robes. There were some things Ginevra Potter would never forget.

She wasn't sure where she was when he caught her: halfway standing up, reluctant to give up on his arrival? Was she at the door, her eyes crumpling with lost hope? Perhaps walking to the corner, almost speaking the words that would summon the Knight Bus. It didn't matter. He was there, touching her shoulder, long fingers insistent through black leather gloves, tendrils of not-quite-warmth expanding under the sudden contact. She wasn't sure what she said to him - probably something mouse-brained - but looking back, she realized that there needn't have been words at all.

At some time she began to repress the memory of the moment afterward, when she felt the sharp not-pain when he touched her mind, when her hastily-built, seldom-practiced Occlumency barriers crumbled, leaving her feelings, her dreams, her pent-up desires bare to his gaze. She would, depending on her mood, let the memory of his mouth flicker between desperate, empathetic hunger and triumph. Then his hand closed around the nape of her neck and pressed her close and the world disappeared.

For a moment – this was when the memory truly began, - he held her close, his breath sighing into her hair, his chest pushing in and out against hers. His fingers cupped her face, gray eyes locking with hers for a second, before his lips pressed against her forehead and he whispered, _Please_. There was the briefest moment when he was completely vulnerable. A sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, escaped her lungs, her lips, pressing against his collarbone and he did not bother to ask her permission again.

"Draco," _we shouldn't do this._ Her body, that traitor, pressing closer.

"Ginny." _I know you want me. _His eyes, ambivalent, sorrowful, desiring.

"I…" _have a family, a son, waiting for me. _Her mind, flooding with emotion, the last excuses fleeing to higher ground.

"You." _Smell like home. _His teeth, like perfect white tombstones, his tongue darting between them. He was so perfect, so unlike Harry. His white-blond hair cut shorter than she'd ever seen it before, his gray eyes solemn under wispy-pale lashes that she'd never been close enough to notice, the small wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes from smiles she could never imagine his face making until now.

She tilted her head back and the remnants of her self control evaporated into the wind.

Then he kissed her.

Harry Potter sat at his desk in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, bags under his green eyes. He barely registered the enchanted ceiling growing dimmer, the wall-lamps flickering on in response. His office hadn't started out as the nicest in the DMLE, but it was headed that way, what with all the gifts. Most of it ended up in storage; apart from various files and paperwork, the only object on his desk was a small metal device that _whizzed_ every so often. Harry glanced at the memento and walked out the door the moment before the young bearded man turned the corner. The man stopped, startled, then gave a quick bow of acknowledgement.

"You've checked ahead?" Harry asked. Between his fingers he rubbed a piece of glass, the edges worn down by time and use.

"Of course." The bearded man replied. "We've got an hour, Mr. Perevell."

Harry nodded. "That will do."

Together, the two continued down the corridor and down the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7: If at First

**If at first you don't succeed, fully destroy all evidence of that first attempt before trying again so you can claim to be perfect. **

**I'm looking for beta readers, do you know where I could get some? Also, I'm broadening the scope of this story, so there will probably be significant changes coming to previous chapters soon. **

The Lady Greengrass, Astoria's mother, had never quite understood the other pureblood families. To be fair, she had a firm grasp on the problem at hand: of course wizards and witches were _intrinsically better_ than muggles, and of course _pureblood_ wizards and witches were _intrinsically better _than muggle-born ones. That much was completely obvious. What she didn't understand was what the Dark Lord's faction was doing about it. The Lady Greengrass did not consider herself to be particularly clever, but even she could see that they were going about Wizard Supremacy in a completely wrong direction. She pointed this out to her children - Olivia, Phoebe, Daphne, Astoria, and the twins Castor and Polly – several times.

"Children," She would begin, "do you know what happened when Voldemort was in power?"

"He scared the muggleborns back into their place!"

"He proved that wizards and witches have the right to use their magic!"

The Lady Greengrass would shake her head sadly. "No, children, that is not what happened. Lord Voldemort killed hundreds of witches and wizards."

"… And thousands of muggles too, right?"

The Lady Greengrass would snort. "He sacrificed a bishop for a couple of pawns. That's not how you win." For the longest time, Astoria would wonder what exactly her mother meant. Then at age nine she began simultaneously a junior chess career and a crush on Ronald Weasley that would last precisely until the moment she actually _met _Ronald Weasley and decided she could do better.

"Well then… how do you win?"

The Lady Greengrass would smile, patting her children's soft dark hair. "When you're older, you see…." And so, after marrying Draco Malfoy, Astoria knew that, if nothing else, she was going to bear him _many_ fine sons and daughters. It was a pity she wasn't well-equipped to do so.

* * *

Ginny Weasley sighed into her sheets. It had been a long, _long_ time since _that _had happened. Certainly since her before second trimester, which had been, a very, very _long_ time ago. Well! If this was what it was going to be like in the future, she would just have to let things take their course after all. She'd considered her other options, but – and Ginny Potter smiled lovingly at her husband, Harry – she was glad she'd walked away from Draco Malfoy yesterday. Ginny was about to fall back asleep when James Sirius began to cry.

"Dammit. One more minute?" Ginny plead ineffectually. She poked Harry's shoulder but he continued to snore lightly. "Oh, it's fine. I'll get it dear."

* * *

The Malfoy Manor at seven in the morning looked like the Malfoy Manor always did, a little darker and colder than the cloudless blue sky outside would suggest. These days it was a little emptier too, now that Lucius had decided to take his wife on an extended vacation to the Balkans, as the Wizengamot had finally found a way to replace him. Now Draco stood at the head of the table in the formal hall, looking much like a younger, thinner version of his father, staring down a small, cringing figure.

Draco Malfoy glared at the new house elf. "You. Have you seen Astoria?"

The house elf cringed. "No, Master. She left this for you, master."

Draco snatched the note from the house elf's trembling hands. "Stop cringing, whatever your name is. We're paying you good money to do all this work. STOP CRINGING."

Draco crumpled the note in his fist. "Merlin's beard. You, go get me some pumpkin pasties or something. Make yourself useful. Actually, wait right here. I need you to deliver something and I need to make sure it doesn't fall into the right hands." He sat down and thought of a freckled face, framed by red-gold hair.

* * *

Ginny was smiling again by the time she put the orange juice on the table. She absentmindedly spoonfed James Sirius from a can of food she had bought at Madame Marberry's Infant Emporium. He giggled and knocked the spoon out of her hand. She pouted. "If you keep doing that, and I keep using _evanesco_ you're not going to have any left." Ginny saw Harry watching out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey beautiful." Harry said.

"Hey you." Ginny slapped his arm playfully. "Why don't you help your son get some food into the right place while I get you some coffee."

"I can get my own coff- OW." Harry walked over to James Sirius. "James, my boy, don't you want some of this nice… nice yummy food stuff?"

Ginny rolled her eyes as she poured the coffee. "So I was thinking, maybe today we can take James to the park. That'll be nice for him, to get some fresh air while it's still warm enough."

Harry moved the spoon closer to James Sirius's mouth. "Sounds good. I can't believe how big he's gotten. How about this afternoon? I have to drop by the DMLE this morning."

"But it's a Sunday."

"I know, but-"

"But you promised that you'd give me _one day_ out of the week. One day to be with your family, is that so hard for you?"

"Ginny, don't be unreasonable, it's just going to be a couple of hours, they really need me there."

"I need you here."

"Honey, this is important, ok. I wouldn't go if it wasn't important."

"I cannot believe we are having this conversation again. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. You can't believe how big James has gotten? You haven't been around to notice since he was born. Of course your job is important, everything you do for the DMLE is important. But we are important too."

"I know, Ginny. It's just this one more thing."

"It's always just one more thing."

They stopped as James Sirius started crying.

Ginny sighed. "Don't worry, I'll get it." She picked up her son and bounced, glaring over his small head at his father. "What are you waiting for? Your country needs you, Mr. Potter."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours. I love you."

"Sure. Love you too."

Astoria Malfoy was crying into the Lady Greengrass's arms. "Darling," The Lady Greengrass said, "it's not that I don't love you, but don't you think this is a bit excessive? It's true, what happened was dreadful, but it's not anything that a little time and patience can't _fix._"

"Yes mama."

"Go clean yourself up. Your husband isn't going to give you any more children with your face all puffy like that."

"Yes mama."

The Lady Greengrass waited a tasteful half-minute after her daughter left the room to _evanesco_ the phlegm from her sleeve. Then her face hardened. Astoria _would_ have more children by Draco Malfoy if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

At half-past four, Ginny decided that Harry wouldn't be home before the sun set. She took her son and went to the muggle park.

Ginny walked two miles around the lake and back, sitting at her usual bench with James Sirius asleep in her arms. Suddenly, a small foam ball hit her on the side of the head. "What?" She said, confused.

A little girl – no more than five years old – ran up to her. "My daddy says I should say sorry. So, sorry. But you should be paying more attention." She grabbed the ball and hid behind the legs of a short, rather round man.

"Ma'am, she really is sorry. I'm sorry." The man said.

"Er, It's no big deal. James is still asleep, no crying, no foul."

"That's good. I'm Albert Newcastle, and this is Susie. We live in the yellow house."

"Oh, I'm Ginny, this is James. We're visiting."

"Really? I see you here all the time."

"Um…"

"Not a big deal, sorry I said anything. I've just noticed you walking a lot. You're always alone, you know, and I notice things like that. Just thought you could use a friend or two on the street."

"Oh."

"Well, no pressure. But if you ever feel like it, I host a weekly dinner for people like us."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "People like… us?" She couldn't sense any magic in Albert, but maybe he was strongly warded.

"Single moms and dads. It's a real life saver, you learn so much from the people that have gone through it before."

"Mhm. I actually happen to have a husband."

"I am so sorry, my mistake. I just assumed, I've never seen you with anyone – I've been incredibly rude, let me get out of here before I embarrass myself any more." He looked around for Susie, who had run back to the playground and was yelling at an older boy, "Push me faster!" as she sat on the swings.

As he turned to leave, Ginny said, "You know what, Albert? I might take you up on that offer anyway. I could use some friends."

Albert's round face lit up. "Good! The next meeting is this Wednesday at 5. Yellow house on the corner, you can't miss it."

* * *

Harry Potter stared at the doors, identical, and yet different. The circular room was dimly lit, although there were no identifiable sources of light. He looked at the bearded man. "There really is no way to know which is which?"

"No. Before you open one they are all the same. You can't even ask the question, which door belongs to which room. The doors are, and the rooms are. That is all that matters. We only have a few more hours, Mr. Perevell."

"Well, if it's all the same…" Harry walked to the nearest door, and the two walked through it. Behind them, one might say that the doors began spinning. But that is not exactly what happened, just a way to put it into words and sights that a person could understand.


End file.
